Page 45
Story: Jagged
"It is. Too bad we're not East Coasters. Just one flight for the most part."
"We usually stop in New York anyway. Mom's been traveling back and forth twice a year her whole life, but I'm aware she won't always be able to do that."
"I know…"
"You'd like it there." She nudged my shoulder. "Your Spanish-speaking brain could learn more Portuguese."
"Sometimes I understand more than I think…"
"That's how it works."
My phone chimed on the table and a text from Clementine lingered on the screen. I picked it up to read it and Tatiana looked on.
Changed your mind about answering I see.
I smirked and responded, Yeah.
A pause followed until a tiny map joined the text. Thirty minutes?
"She shared a location with me," I told Tati. "What should I say?"
"It's just the Crystal Mug. You're familiar with it. Why not?" she encouraged.
I hesitated for a moment then replied, Okay.
Tatiana smiled at me, then leaned forward and smooched my cheek. "Keep an open mind and remember, you already know she likes you. You don't have to question that."
"I hate dating. And everything like this." I stood up to swipe my keys from the counter followed by my bomber jacket from the hook by the door. "I'm not changing."
"Why would you change?"
"She hates my ripped jeans."
"Do you hate your ripped jeans?"
"No…"
"She knows how you dress and yet chose to ask you out anyway. Clearly, she doesn't hate it enough for it to impede her liking of you. Go on." She shooed me toward the door. "Text me later."
"If I panic, come get me." I grabbed my skateboard and smirked.
She chuckled and nodded. "Always. Later."
"Bye."
It took me twenty minutes to roll my way down the pavement with my thoughts in a total shamble. All of Tatiana's advice and words tangled with my own. I didn't want to do this. I didn't want to at all, and I didn't understand any of it either. But I knew that if I didn't go, it would make the work I had to do with Clementine on this case, and any future case, more difficult. All I could think about was the awkwardness of the future and the exhaustion of now.
I hopped off my board at the entrance to The Mug and drew in a slow breath before pulling open the door.
In the somewhat busy café, it took me a moment to locate Clementine in the corner. In the new-age ambiance filled with purple accoutrements, crystal center pieces, and tasteful wall swatches, the tiny circular tables that lined the edges of the room tied the look together. Single or pairs of people often used those while the larger square tables held the bigger parties. Today, patrons gathered sporadically around the place and the distinct scent of fresh brownies filled the room.
Clem sat at the table in the farthest position from all the other tables in the café. A purple reusable mug perched on the table in front of her while she sat with her legs crossed. She stared down at a book in her lap, the same way she had in the salon. Sans lab coat and hair tie, Clem's hair tumbled over her shoulders in a flagrant display. It touched her elbows in places while in others it just reached her chin. She wore a pair of nerdy, black-rimmed glasses that she urged up the bridge of her nose. For some reason, the gesture made me smile. I'd never seen her with glasses before, but it suited her. She wore a sleek pair of black slacks and a thin blue sweater that fell an inch short of her wrists. When she tucked her hair behind her ear, a sense of guilt tightened my stomach. The thoughts that followed after I completed her quiz weren't very nice, and she didn't deserve that kind of thinking.
As I stood there with people bustling past me, a sense of clarity washed over me. If I joined her at that table, I'd be making a choice. One that I'd avoided for a long time. By stepping into this, I'd be starting something. Something that I couldn't walk away from, couldn't make a graceful dismount or even a bumbling bail. And in choosing to walk forward, I chose a commitment.
I gripped the truck of my board tightly in my palm, took a breath, and headed to the table. I hesitated when she didn't look up right away and stood there for an awkward few seconds. Then a few more.
"Clem."
Table of Contents
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